


every star has a reason to burn

by meltedbutter (solarzenith)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Denial of Feelings, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-07 12:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14671494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarzenith/pseuds/meltedbutter
Summary: Tony Stark will be a brick wall until Peter takes a hammer to his heart and settles in to crack it. Tony rebuilds and resets, because he can't imagine anything else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think this is viable at all and I love Tony too much to even consider it. But guess what, I wrote it anyway. So, instead of assuming I'm super-duper into all this, were gonna recognize my absolute adoration of Tony and the need for him to be happy and that is all. Anyway, enjoy!

Tony’s sweat-damp body heaved forward as his eyes roamed over the destruction laid out in front of his bed frame. The ground was on fire, because it always was, and he was alone, safe on the sidelines, watching everyone burn, because it was _always_ his fault. His eyes caught on Steve, lying next to Bucky and Nat, and that was his fault too, right? He felt indignation quickly swell up behind his ribs and he forced his eyes to keep scanning, finally finding the anomaly.

Peter was in his new Iron Spider suit, with the face mask ripped off and most of the fabric charred away. Bright red blood was flowing out of his nose as his chest refused to rise.

Tony closed his eyes and let the illusion fade to his normal carpeting. That couldn’t be his fault, because he’d never let that happen while he was still alive. He’d never allow Peter to be in the line of fire like that, not even close.

He’d be dead before that.

His nightmares had only gotten worse recently. It was like the itch in his veins was a sign that something big was coming, something unfathomable and uncontainable. He couldn’t handle it alone, but he didn’t want to let anyone help him either. Especially not the kid he selfishly roped into his own fight. He couldn’t help but think about it every time he looked at Peter, and it felt like a play in his head. He was putting on a show every time he talked to the kid, tightly pulling on his mask.

He scratched at the nape of his neck as his breathing evened out. This was his morning routine now, or any time he shut his eyes. His head was going through the motions like he had Wanda’s mind-bending shit living between his ears.

“Friday, what’s the time?”

“Eight a.m., boss.” Friday’s smooth reply calmed his nerves. There was no news.

Tony leaned back on his pillow, head on his arm, letting exhaustion seep back into his consciousness. Everything was fine, the sky was blue instead of red, and, so far, he had no reason to panic. Peter was fine last he checked, which was much more often after the Vulture incident, and he should be at school right now-

The second that thought passed between his ears, his phone alerted him to a change in Peter’s vitals. He snapped his hand over to grab it, and the screen started blinking blue and red.

“Friday…”

“Spider-Man’s heart rate is currently 120 and climbing. The suit has sustained multiple lacerations and-“

“Patch me through to Karen.”

Instantly, Peter’s choked off gasps filled his ceiling speakers instead of Karen’s explanation. Tony’s senses overloaded as he sat up on the edge of his bed. He didn’t know what Peter had gotten himself into, but he was sure as hell struggling.

“Hey, Parker-“

Tony heard Peter take in a lungful of air before the sound of punching and gunshots filtered through the speakers. Tony heard a couple bodies thud on the floor as Karen tried checking on the kid as well. Peter was breathing heavily as the noise died down and he finally responded to them, “I’m fine, I’m fine-“

Tony cut him off as he stopped himself from calling his suit, “Sure don’t sound fine.”

“No, I’m-” He broke off again as a choke forced its way out of his lungs, “I’m good now, Mr. Stark.”

Tony nodded and pushed himself back on his bed as he listened to Peter’s breathing, heart-rate still erratic, “You call the cops?”

“Yeah, Karen just did.”

Tony assumed it was a robbery, maybe domestic and unimportant, but he didn’t really care to ask. He didn’t need to give his imagination any extra fuel. Peter was supposed to be safe, learning about basic physics and keeping his shoes on the right feet.

His head bobbed up as that exact thought hit him and he asked, “Why aren’t you at school?”

He heard Peter sigh and wipe off his suit, “Mr. Stark…”

“Hey, none of that. We talked about this. You can’t just skip high school because you got free abs. I’m not about to deal with your aunt.”

Tony could hear the fwips of Peter’s webs as he wrapped up the criminals and started swinging through the city, hopefully on his way to school, “I know, I was just- I couldn’t just ignore it!”

Tony tisked, “You’re too damn smart to throw away your education for the little old lady down the street. I know it’s hard, and I know you want to do more, but you can’t bypass high school. This is your future.”

There was silence over the line as Tony rubbed at his eyes. It was too early to be fathering this kid, and just thinking that made his stomach hurt for some reason.

Peter sounded like a petulant child when he answered, “Fine.”

Tony always disappointed the kid, and he was really sick of the guilt it brought.

In a haze of morning exhaustion and poor judgement, his mouth opened and said, “If you keep up with school, you can come work in my lab on the weekends. If you want.”

 _Why would he want to do that?_ Peter wanted to save the world, not fuck around in Tony’s house doing god knows what. Though, the kid did love his lab-

“Really?!”

The speakers somehow managed to convey the giant sunshine smile that pulled across Peters lips as he said that, and just hearing it soothed Tony’s nerves. No matter what this kid got into, he always walked away in a good mood. It would almost be exhausting if it wasn’t so endearing.

“You have to go to school though, and keep your grades up.”

Peter’s feet barely made a noise as he finally landed back on solid ground, “Done. Easy. Sounds great!”

Tony couldn’t help but let a smirk tug at his own lips at the sound of Peter’s excitement, and he hoped it played over the audio too, “Good. I’ll see you on Friday then.”

Peter was reluctant to let Tony go just yet, “Does it matter when? After school, maybe?”

Tony made a face as he thought of anything he might be doing Friday, before remembering that he had nothing _to_ do, as his schedule was cleared for the week for Rhodey, “Up to you, I stay home most of the time now anyway. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark, you’re the best, I promise I’ll keep my end of the deal.”

Tony nodded and bent back against his pillows again, completely ignoring Peter’s misplaced appreciation, “Get to school.”

Peter hummed in agreement as the line was cut off. Tony assumed he was already there, safe on campus, and let his head succumb to the drowsiness attempting to take over.

The Earth wasn’t burning just yet, so why not sleep a little longer if he could manage it.

-

Tony felt like he finally had something to look forward to. Everything in his life at the moment was one dreaded interaction after the next, and being alone was no better.

The kid was… a sliver of hope. Tony was betrayed and left alone to wallow, and yet this kid didn’t care. He didn’t care about his debilitating anxiety and he didn’t care about his overbearing antics. Peter was just happy to be around him, and despite that being obvious hero-worship, it sure made him feel like he was worth something anyway.

The past was the past, with Peter, and Tony was looking to the future for the first time since Ultron.

 

Peter showed up on his doorstep exactly 18 minutes after his last class was supposed to be let out. Tony didn’t want to accuse him of skipping out early, but it was more than slightly suspicious. He ignored it, chalking it up to first-day anticipation, and welcomed him in.

Tony lead Peter down the glass stairs into his workshop, giving him a passcode and having Friday recognize him as authorized personnel for any time Peter wanted to visit. Peter thanked him gratefully for trusting him, and it made his skin prickle a bit. As they stepped in, Tony heard a small, “Woah…” of fascination behind him. He looked back around, smirking at Peter’s captivated stare jumping from wall to wall.

Tony leaned back to bask, watching as Peter took in the wide, blue workshop. He knew his lab was impressive, maybe even charming, and it was incredibly gratifying to have Peter so enthralled by it. Peter looked the right way, finally focusing on what he should, and caught sight of the suit Tony made for him as an integration offering a few months ago.

Tony smirked as Peter just looked at it with maybe a little bit of guilt, “Oh, you want that old thing?”

Peter looked back at him with wide eyes and budding anticipation, “I can have it?”

Tony rolled up his sleeves and moved over to the case the suit was held in, “I made it for you, for better protection. I’m not holding it hostage until you join the Avengers, it’s already yours.”

“Mr. Stark, thank you, thank you-“

“Hey, calm down. I have a lot of free time.” Tony turned to open the case and take the suit down from its pedestal, walking back and handing it over to Peter. He suddenly had apprehension sting his gut at the thought of Peter using this as an excuse to be more daring, more dangerous, and it almost made him yank it back. But then he just stood frozen with it outstretched in his hand, and it was far too late.

Peter took it with gentle fingers and admired the updated design and sturdy fabric, turning it over and pawing at the sewing.

Tony didn’t like the silence, forced to watch Peter admire something he’d created without any complaints, “I haven’t been able to make the upgrades I really want to, one with vibranium sewn into the seams and all that. Surprisingly, even for me, it’s incredibly hard to get your hands on.”

Peter thumbed at the streaks of gold next to the spider symbol, “Vibranium, as in like, Cap’s shield?”

A huge, blinding light bulb went off somewhere behind his eyes. His face lit up with it, “Wow. How did I not think of that before? I should just melt that down for you, he’d be into that, right? Protecting kids or something? Though he’d probably see it the other way around-“

Peter put his hands up to stop Tony from even going down that path, “Wait, no! I don’t want Cap’s shield in my suit. This is great as is.”

Tony shook his head, falling into this new rabbit hole idea, “It could be _better_ -“

“It’s perfect,” Peter made sure his conviction got through to him, pulling him right back up to reality, “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony had no experience with compliments and his skin was starting to crawl, so he decided to drop it, “Alright, alright, just put it on and go test it out already. We need feedback.”

Peter’s smile broke open as he started ripping off his shirt.

Tony quickly held out his hands as a make-shift buffer, “Woah, don’t get naked in my lab! Friday doesn’t need to see that.”

Peter looked back up from his bare torso, wide-eyed with hair sticking up in every direction, “Sorry, where’s your… uh, bathroom then?”

Tony squinted, barely noticing the chicken bumps crawling up Peter’s arms, “Just put it on?”

“Over my clothes?” Peter made a face like he was committing a crime, and Tony had to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah, it molds to your body like the old one, but it fits over your clothes. Just like my suit. Sometimes there’s no time to change. You can’t tell it’s covering anything.”

Peter looked like he thought back on all the times he got changed in an alley and lost his backpack for it, and all the times he had to shimmy out of it and slip into normal clothes as fast as possible so May wouldn’t wonder why he was always almost naked alone in his own room. Tony knew it was a good change.

Tony coughed in an attempt to pull Peter out of his little trance, and the kid immediately snapped into action. He pulled his shirt back on over his head, but then came to a stop again, looking at his suit a little lost.

“So how do I… fit it onto me if I have clothes on? Is it like trying to pull socks over jeans?”

Tony stared at him, “If you do that shit normally, you can’t put my suit on.”

Peter’s cheeks swelled with a laugh held behind his teeth, “It’s my suit! You said so!”

Tony was smiling, “Whatever, no, it’s not like that. Look,” he took the suit back and grabbed Peter’s wrist in his fingers. The kid went still for a second, but Tony ignored it in favor of pressing the kid’s palm to the spider symbol on the front of the suit. It was designed to recognize his and Peter's fingerprints only, but that wasn't vital information.

The fabric reeled into a small case and folded up, and Peter was clearly floored.

“Holy shit!”

Tony’s eyebrows went up, Peter was easily excitable and that amused him endlessly. He handed the case to Peter, “Just tap the center to condense it, then press it to your chest and do it again.”

He was mid-speech when he decided to just demo what he was trying to explain. He took it back and hit the center, letting the case open up. He then pushed it against Peter’s torso, and it engulfed him. Red and blue washed over his body as Tony stepped back to catalogue it's functionality. He noticed there was a slight lag in the more difficult areas around condensed fabric, and maybe he should get Peter some under armor, maybe a set of clothes that were form fitting-

“This is awesome!”

Tony’s eyes snapped up to Peter’s bright smile, watching as the kid looked at his newly suited body and how it moved, “Better, yes?”

Peter nailed Tony’s feet to the floor with the look he gave him, and Tony felt the compulsion to talk the suit down again. Instead he just stood there as Peter smiled at him and said, “It’s amazing,” with the softest voice Tony had ever heard sent his way. Tony felt like he was standing on black concrete in a hoodie, staring up into the blazing sun.

It grounded him in a way he wasn’t used to, and he didn't want to look at it too closely.

Tony huffed and threw his thumb over his shoulder, “Alright long legs, get out there. I’ll be waiting for results.” He tapped on his ear to signal he’d be talking to Peter through the suit, but Peter shook his head.

“You don’t wanna come see it for yourself?” Peter was still using that voice and it was starting to grate at his nerves for some reason. It was making his thudding heart a little louder and he was scared he was going to have an attack in a second. The heat crawling up his neck was starting to itch.

Tony brought himself back with the thought of the media’s response to suited superheroes flying around with no apparent goal, “Um, no I don’t think so-“

Peter baited him, begging like a child, “Come on, Mr. Stark-”

“Tony.”

“-let’s see what this baby can do.”

He suddenly decided that he didn’t actually care about anything but making this kid happy, and that was stupid of him, “…Fine.”

Peter didn’t register his sudden agreement at first, but then he whooped and went out to the balcony, staring up into the clouds. Tony watched as Peter checked the web-shooters and started talking to Karen as if they were picking up a conversation they left off earlier that day.

Peter looked back and gave him one last wave before tossing himself off the side of the building. Tony decided not to waste any time, putting his palm out to guide the suit to his body.

Peter hadn’t gotten too far from the compound by the time Tony caught up with him, and yet he was flashy and vibrant enough to get all the pedestrians below to look up.

-

Tony gave Peter the new suit to test out on his own time while continuing to give him reports in return. So far it was functioning almost perfectly, as he’d had plenty of time to fine-tune it before he even offered it to Peter; he wasn’t about to give him anything less than the best he could make when Peter could barely keep his feet safely on the ground.

Peter found no issues with it in the first week and came back to his lab with nothing but exuberance and long-winded tales of his neighborhood watches. He lit up the dark lab, and Tony was just lucky to be caught in the light.

Tony rolled up his sleeves and silently got to work on his own suit as Peter regaled him with a fascinating story about an interesting man that Peter called ‘Scorpion’. Seemed to be a harmless encounter, nothing to worry about, though Tony had to admit he was barely listening as he was incredibly engrossed in his work. But then sometimes he would hear Peter trail off, which forced him to look up into soft eyes that were just watching him as if he was doing something worth committing to memory.

He would then prompt Peter back into his story with the last thing he remembered Peter saying, just to get those soft eyes off him, because it was starting to hurt somewhere below the arc reactor. Peter would nod like he was sorting through his skull for something to latch onto, and then he'd jump right back in like it never happened.

Tony didn’t know what to do with those moments, so just like everything else, he pushed them far off to the side and left them to rot.

-

Tony was heavily booked throughout the week, constantly attending Accords meetings and doing his best to reign in the media since this very incidentally familiar ‘Nomad’ character had popped up on the news. Afterwards, he had to actively shut down any thought he had on _that_ subject. He was exhausted, and he told Peter as much when Friday hit and he was still just spinning wheels. Peter was clearly disappointed, no matter how he tried to hide it, and Tony felt so guilty he cancelled his obligations for Saturday night.

Saturday evening rolled around way too quickly though, as he kept his morning S.I. meetings out of necessity, and Tony was harshly jarred out of his current project as Peter landed heavily on his balcony. Friday opened the door for him without Tony needing to ask her to.

Tony, though, crossed his arms and slowly turned on his spin-top stool to give Peter a glare.

Peter paused in the doorway with confused, wide eyes. He was clearly perplexed by the scene, but Tony just wanted to make him squirm.

Tony turned back to his project with a put-upon sigh, “Should’ve warned me, Spidey, I just sliced through a wire ‘cause of you.”

Peter looked a little mortified as he gracelessly stumbled inside, “Oh man, I thought- I’m sorry, Karen said the door was open, so I-”

Tony got immediately sucked back into the wiring on his shin plate and barely muttered back, “Well then Karen should have given me a warning, maybe a nice howdy do…”

The wire was frayed but easily mendable, he pulled the laser out again and started trimming the edges and welding them back into place. Maybe he should use a different material, lasers were pretty common and he got through that one all too easily. Though, the nanobots would instinctively protect the under-skeleton if it became exposed-

He didn’t hear footsteps behind him until Peter’s hand was waving in front of his face and his mind zeroed in on reality again. Tony's brow pulled together as he realized that was Peter’s old hand flapping at him for attention, “Hey, that’s your old hand, why are you in your old hand...”

He paused, caught off-guard by his own gibberish. He was prone to just saying whatever drifted through his head when he was lost in a project; he should probably make some coffee to pull him out. Well, it was already seven, should he-?

He stopped again and turned to see Peter giving him a questioning look with a small smirk, “Old hand?”

Tony took off his gloves and ran his fingers through his hair to push it back; it was getting long, like he’d been kidnapped and held in a cave for months, that type of long, “I just meant- you’re wearing the old suit.”

Peter looked away from Tony’s hair and down at his suit like he’d forgotten what he was wearing, “Oh, yeah. I like the new one, don’t get me wrong, this one’s just special to me; something sentimental about it.”

Tony nodded, not quite following why it would mean so much but still unconcerned, and stood up to stretch, “Well, make yourself at home. I’m gonna be down here a while longer since I’ve had absolutely no time to myself to work in the last 72 hours.”

Peter started fiddling with the shin plate he was working on before as he made his way to the fridge in the corner. He went to grab something for the kid as Friday started the coffee pot, deciding he didn't need a caffeinated teenager bouncing around his lab. Peter was eyeing the shin plate carefully as he asked, “Is this a new design? It looks completely different…”

Tony brought back a soda for Peter and a water bottle for himself, to hold him over while he waited on his brew, “Yeah it’s just a thought I had, I’m trying to sort of compress everything. Like your suit.”

Peter sat down on the stool next to his and picked up one of the nanomachines he was testing out, “These… compress it for you?”

It was a lot to explain, and while Peter would understand easily, that didn’t mean he had the energy to respond with anything but, “Yeah.”

Tony watched as Peter fiddled with it for a minute, trying to get it to expand, before Tony smirked and took it off his hands, “It’s under my command, no use messing with it. It’s more of an internal reaction system than a manual one.”

“What are you going to do when you condense it? How are you going to get it on?”

Tony let the machine expand in his palm and mold to his skin as Peter pulled his mask off and laid it on the desk, “Well, that’s still a work in progress. I have a couple ideas, but-”

He set the plate down on the bench and picked up the spider-mask, completely switching tracks as it came into view, “Woah wait, how the hell did you break the eye socket? How often do you wear this thing?”

Peter blanched a little bit at the sudden interrogation, “It wasn’t anything major, it was just some random robber.”

“Some ‘random’ robber punched you so hard your mask’s eye socket broke. Okay. Was this from earlier today? Jesus-“ Tony took Peter’s jaw in his hand and moved his cheek into view, “you heal way too quick.”

Peter started to sink into his fingers like he was getting comfortable, so Tony let go and rubbed his hand on his thigh, “Can’t believe you put this thing on just to break it-“

Peter sighed, “Mr. Stark it’s fine, I brought it here to fix it!”

Tony rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, “Yeah, yeah.”

Tony laid it out and started picking at the weakened thread, “Your new suit would have resisted this, you know.”

Peter didn’t respond, just walked around the corner and took off his suit, hopping into sweats and a t-shirt before coming back into view. Tony was already tearing out bits of the old mask, mumbling about not even needing to fix this old junk pile when Peter sat down closer to him than last time.

Peter stilled his hand with fingers wrapped around his wrist, “You don’t have to fix it if you don’t want to. You can work on your suit, and I’ll work on mine.”

When Tony looked up from the mask, Peter’s eyes were incredibly soft and oh so guilty looking. Tony just moved his hand out of the kid's hold and handed Peter the mask, “Sure, if you know what you’re doing.”

Peter smirked and took the mask from him, “Don’t worry, there have been many cuts and scraped knees I didn’t feel the need to tell you about.”

Tony felt a little sting, like red ashes lighting up under a puff of air, knowing he wasn’t the only one to fix Peter’s suit, but that was irrational so he tamped it down and snuffed it out, “Well, good. Have at it, then.”

Tony leaned into his work again, subtly shifting himself away from Peter a bit and putting proper space between them. Peter was working diligently next to him as music lowly filtered through the speakers, and it was calm again. They worked like that for a couple hours, Peter always finding something new to patch and Tony always hitting a different, more interesting path to follow.

He almost felt bad for how easily he could forget the space around him in order to focus so intently on one thing, though Peter hadn’t complained yet, so he assumed the kid understood. He could feel Peter’s eyes on him sometimes, though, and it was starting to make his skin crawl.

He could ignore his surroundings, but not so much that blatant staring didn’t eventually unnerve him.

He wondered if it was Peter’s reverence at watching his ‘hero’ work and that was why he was so plastered to Tony that night. He wasn’t ready to hold that title but he guessed it was already his to bear, no matter how hefty it was. He could almost feel his shoulders sinking with it, as he knew he was unfit to carry it.

Tony let it drag on for a few minutes more before it gave him an itch he couldn’t reach; Peter had to stop watching him or else he was gonna flip. Tony turned to cut the tension building in his chest, “Alright, kid-“

His voice broke off when Peter moved into his space, looking at him with those big eyes he’d been sporting all night. The kid was quick, pushing close before Tony could comprehend the shift. Tony’s instincts barely kicked in as he grabbed onto Peter’s upper arms and held him back. His eyes were finally open, finally focused, and Peter was looking back like he was drowning.

Fuck, Tony had to get out; he stood up and disconnected himself from Peter entirely in an instant. Peter deflated, and Tony was caught floating. He was stuck there though, wide-eyed and lost, trapped in the bubble Peter had made and unable to pull himself out.

_Where the fuck had that come from?_

Peter’s hands were held out like he was placating an alarmed animal, which Tony definitely was, “Mr. Stark, I’m sorry-“

Tony shook his head and buried all of it. Six feet under. They could forget this so easily, they had to, because Tony wouldn’t be able handle anything less.

“Forget it.”

He said it with so much conviction that he could see Peter come to terms with it like the ground finally settled under his feet. This was nothing, and it would continue to be nothing. Things didn’t have to _change_. Things _couldn’t change_. Tony had nothing else.

Peter straightened his back and nodded with a false face that had no effect on Tony’s confidence in his acceptance, “Okay.”

Tony didn’t think it’d be that simple, but he wasn’t going to argue that now, “Good.”

Tony sat back down, unable to focus his eyes on the suit in front of him for the rest of the night. Tony couldn’t believe how blind he’d been before. How had he not noticed the barely subtle shift from hero-worship to straight up attraction when it was staring him in the face? Ignorance was bliss and he was an idiot to overlook it.

He didn’t move his stool away or put up any barriers, as he didn’t want to make the kid feel even worse, but he had to make Peter see the line drawn in the sand now.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony’s hands were strained where he was holding Rhodey up by his armpits, barely keeping his ass from smacking the linoleum, “You need to lose some weight, buddy.”

Rhodey huffed and put more of his bulk on his own hands, gripping the metal bars until his knuckles pulsed, “Maybe it’s these clunky metal legs, man.”

“Oh, don’t you go blaming me now.” Tony wasn’t out of breath from this routine anymore since he'd decided to get back into shape recently. Aging was a bitch and he was determined to work against it. Rhodey was the opposite, being unable to even run without many road bumps now, and thinking about it always pushed Tony to try harder for him.

He’d improved the leg braces almost six times at this point, each time making the devices as minimal as possible and giving them just that much more functionality. Rhodey was almost completely independent now, and he'd had plenty of physical therapy to help. Days like today, however, put some stress on him. Today was the fourth day in their four-day long therapy routine, and Rhodey always tended to get burnt out by the end.

He held up his hand when Tony reached out to help him again since noticing sweat breaking out across the man's forehead, “It’s fine, I’m good.”

Rhodey had that irritated undertone in his voice that he got when he felt excessively dependent on other people, as if he was ashamed he couldn’t easily fend for himself anymore. It took absolutely everything in Tony to pardon Vision for his oversight, but then Tony was always reminded of the man’s general good intentions. It was difficult to stay mad at Vision when he had Jarvis’ heart and voice; it never ceased to sway Tony towards understanding.

Rhodey slowly stumbled himself across the platform with his hands plastered to his hips, unwilling to use the rails for support now that he had started to look like a sinking ship; he was determined to walk on his own, despite how heavy the toll on his body was. Tony could never help him enough, could never fix what he’d done, and apparently his demons were incapable of letting him forget that.

A heart-stopping alarm pulled his eyes away from Rhodey and down to his phone; it was blinking bright red and blue again and he felt his pulse speed up to match it. Friday spoke up before he even had to prompt her with a question.

“Spider-man’s left ribcage just fractured.”

Tony’s stomach dropped out along with the phone in his hand; he immediately turned and made his way towards the balcony as Friday continued to rattle off updates through the ceiling. 

Rhodey made eye contact with him as the suit quickly flew to his body, his helmet molded around him as the last piece and he was already airborne by the time it slotted in place. He patched through to Karen and the earpiece as soon as it was up and connected.

“Peter, what’s happening?”

Friday locked onto the suit’s signal, pointing him in the right direction, and Tony was relieved to know it wasn’t the original suit that Peter picked to wear today. Tony was almost comforted by that before breathless gasps filled his ears again. He was starting to get sick of this routine.

Peter couldn’t respond, barely sucking down air, so Karen did it for him, “Peter engaged Scorpion behind the bank on Sixth.”

Tony rolled his eyes, how the fuck was he supposed to keep this kid safe when he couldn’t just stay in his boundaries? The suit was given to him so that he was more protected, but it couldn’t keep Peter from fighting crime way out of his league, which apparently this Scorpion character now was. He ignored the guilt that threatened to rise up his throat over not listening to Peter about this guy beforehand. He really hadn’t learned his lesson the first time, had he?

Tony was pulled from his thoughts as he heard Peter thrash out, angering Scorpion even more if the hissing was anything to go by, and Tony put his suit in overdrive. He instructed Karen to let him see what was happening, giving Tony a better image of the environment. Tony watched through Peter’s eyes as the kid got a little leverage, throwing his fists out instinctively and trying to maneuver his way out of a tight corner. He landed a few solid punches before Scorpion jumped on him, ripping him down from the wall he climbed up for higher ground and slamming his body into the concrete by his throat.

Tony twitched his head left to make the screen swipe away as he was coming up on his destination. He landed behind the two cornered in an alley, cracking the sidewalk beneath the weight of his suit and his refusal to slow down.

Peter choked out, “Tony-“ right as Tony barreled directly into the giant green… thing condemning Peter to the ground. They twisted together and broke through the brick wall behind Peter’s head, tossing them into the empty building and surrounding them in dust clouds.

He was relentless, his vision had gone dark red and his blood was boiling just under his burning skin. He watched himself ram his gauntlets into Scorpion's jaw insistently, barely giving the thing a chance to figure out what had interrupted his previous beatdown. Scorpion was fighting back, his pincers wrapping around and piercing the armor in a few spots on his back, but Tony wasn't listening to Friday's updates; he hadn't felt his skin break yet, hadn't felt a bone snap, so it wasn't pressing information.

He was blind to consequences, and it felt a little bit like Siberia again; he could almost imagine the cold skating up his spine. Scorpion coughed up blood when Tony grabbed him by the throat, and it sent gratification swelling through his body.

Suddenly a soft and broken, “Mr. Stark…” filtered through his headpiece and Tony’s world harshly zeroed back onto a single, bright point, his vision finally clearing. He felt like a bucket of ice was dropped down his back as he whipped around, catching sight of Peter lying at the opening he and Scorpion had broken through. The kid's one hand was tightly wrapped around his torso, the other reaching out for Tony.

Tony's grip on Scorpion went slack, anger lost, didn’t even care what would happen to him if they left him there, and flew back through the building to get to Peter. He landed next to Peter on his knees, popping the faceplate open to get the kid to breathe.

Peter hadn’t removed his mask, he was just clutching his side as he tried to get up and fight again. This kid couldn't just _stand down_ , and he idly wondered how he kept getting sucked into these heroic orbits. Tony forced him back down and pried Peter’s fingers away from his ribcage, lightly pushing his hand on it so Friday could get a reading. Peter hissed and pulled back as soon as the metal fingers wrapped around his dented side.

Peter wasn’t going to relax enough for a diagnosis here, not with Scorpion’s feet thundering up behind them.

Tony snapped his faceplate back on and picked Peter up; he snaked his hand under Peter’s neck and cradled the dips in his knees on his right arm before facing the sky. Peter went limp when he didn’t have to tense to keep his ribs from pulsating anymore, and he finally took in a long, full breath.

“Mr. Stark, we can’t just leave.”

Well, they left. He easily abandoned Scorpion and flew them directly back to the compound. Peter was silent the entire ride, and Tony didn’t prompt him for conversation, or even explanation. Either he was uncomfortable and in pain, or he was pissed about Tony making an executive decision on the matter, and Tony didn’t care about the latter.

Tony looked down to the battered kid in his arms, the one decidedly looking anywhere but up at the armor, and he felt like shit. He may have been ignorant before, but he was wide awake now, and he could just feel himself choking for air. There was no escape plan, no way to detach himself from the fallout following this kid like a shadow, and it was too late to save Peter from himself.

They landed on the balcony more gently than he had on the alley pavement, and Tony beelined for the couch. Rhodey was still standing in the corner, waiting to see what all the fuss was about but not pushing them for answers just yet. Tony walked right past him in order to set Peter down across the sofa, gently pulling himself away as the kid settled on his own. Peter groaned and turned into himself as his ribs protested the movement, and Tony couldn't stand being so useless.

Rhodey trudged over, metal braces clunking on his way, “Is he alright?”

Tony wasn’t sure, and Peter wasn’t talking, so he asked Friday for diagnostics instead of responding. He removed his helmet for a clear view of the damage, despite knowing it was easier to read of information through the HUD. His anxiety was running a little hotter than usual; his hair was plastered to his forehead and his skin was on fire, so he needed the open air.

“C’mon kid…”

Tony took Peter’s wrist away from his side so that he could have Friday scan him without a barrier. He gently took off Peter’s mask after and decided to ignore the purple stain melting down his jaw, for now. If he got too caught on it he might just fly back to that alley to put his mind at ease. Peter wouldn’t even look at him and it was suffocating to know he couldn't fucking fix it.

Peter addressed the air, “I’m fine, I’ll be fine.”

Well now he was talking, a little too late to calm Tony’s nerves and still barely wheezing words out, but at least he could manage it. Friday’s scan results broke across the atmosphere, “Fractured ribs that are already healing, a few light contusions on his jaw and around his throat, and scattered cuts that are, again, almost done healing by now.”

Peter looked up at him for the first time with dark, resentful eyes, “See? I was doing fine.”

Tony looked back with a blank face that barely hid anything, “You’ve got to be kidding me. You would have suffocated.”

Behind them, Rhodey suddenly turned on his heel and started down the stairs with heavy footsteps, “Alright well, he’s back to normal. I’m gonna go get lunch.”

Tony winced, only now noticing that he’d been ignoring Rhodey since he got back, despite his worried questions. There was a reason, clearly, but normally he wouldn’t be so… absorbed. He was overreacting. He kindly waved Rhodey off as Peter sat up, holding his ribs in place so they could fuse together on their own.

Tony put some space between them and let his suit disassemble and lock itself away. Peter was watching him like he was in trouble, looking up through his lashes like he was going to get scolded, and he felt sick. Tony groaned and raked his fingers through his hair; why was he so… pent up? Why was he so frustrated over this? The kid was already healing, this shit was routine by now.

He was irately pacing back and forth before he turned on Peter, “Why didn’t you call me?” Tony raised his arms at his side, “Just a text, y’know? ‘Hey I’m fighting that bugman that wants me dead’! That simple. I was in town, just around the corner, petting a cat and eating a hotdog. I was right _here_ -”

Peter looked up at him through the sweat-damp hair hanging down in front of his eyes, as if he was silently asking, _really?_

Instead he said, “It wasn’t that big of a deal. You’re overreacting.”

 _Well he knew that_ , “That doesn't- that’s not the point. You have to know you can call me for shit like this, despite whatever we... I shouldn’t have to be alerted to your ribs breaking for me to know you need help.”

He'd only barely sidestepped the one topic he said he’d already forgotten, and Peter evidently wanted to ignore it too if his stiff posture was anything to go by. Clearly Tony hadn't forgotten anything, but then how were they supposed to move past it if Tony kept repeating the track?

Peter was petulant in his response, pride slightly disfigured, “I can handle myself.”

Tony stared him down with cold authority, “I don’t care. I’m enabling you and I have the right to protect you. I brought you into this fucking mess and I _will_ help you. So call me next time.”

He felt it break across his features, and he knew Peter saw it. The crack in his armor, the spot right between refusal and ignorance. The one spot Peter could slip right through.

Peter had those soft eyes and Tony had to turn around to keep himself doing something stupid, like touching the kid just to make sure he was actually okay. Hands off was the deal, and his anxiety wasn’t going to get him to break that now.

Peter agreed quietly behind him, said he’d call next time, and then left through the elevator.

Tony felt ripped raw, felt all his masks and facades fall as he sat heavily on the couch next to Peter’s abandoned spot. His head was heavy in his hands, and he had a sharp, hot pain in his gut knowing that he couldn’t keep this up.

-

He wasn’t going to take the new suit back. He knew that wasn’t the answer anymore; that stupid stunt didn't even work the first time. He should have known there was no way to stop this kid, especially since he was working with sweatpants and goggles before Tony stepped in. Peter was a whirlwind of obligation and recklessness. He thought this dark, doomed world was his to save, and there was absolutely no way for Tony to contain him.

He didn’t know how to… talk about it, though. He didn’t want to _talk_ anymore. He didn't even know what he would say; there was nothing he could do but beg the kid to stop being Spider-man, and being that was _everything_ to Peter. He had no right to take that, no matter how much anxiety it gave him. Tony was sick of the stress and sick of the weight on his shoulders that came with it, though. He didn’t even know if bringing it up would make a difference, and he was pretty terrified it might cause something else.

He would really love it if he could just nap, maybe take up yoga for a year and do absolutely nothing else ever again.

Instead he propped back in his chair, tuning out the presenter he was supposed to be listening to, and pulled out his phone.

_Tony (3:52): I’m sorry._

That wasn’t nearly everything he wanted to say, or even really what he meant, but it was a start. He turned his eyes back to the presentation, holding his phone lightly in his fingers, and started pretending to pay attention.

Maybe Peter was still pissed for being forced out of his situation. Tony thought he had a right to be, however small and misguided it was. Maybe Tony _was_ being dramatic and selfish, but not many people had to deal with a kid throwing himself at burning buildings every other day, and his behavior was warranted, he thought.

His phone buzzed just a few minutes later, only letting his annoying thoughts loop around his head about seven times before stalling him.

_Parker (3:57): About what?_

Tony squinted at the screen _. Well, good question._ The meeting ended as his eyebrows knotted together and his fingers hovered over the keyboard. He ignored the bodies filtering out of the room in order to figure out what his plan was.

In the end, he had no plan, and he realized that was obvious from his first text so he followed through with it.

_Tony (4:01): Being… loud?_

_Parker (4:01): Being loud._

Tony rolled his eyes and decided to get to the point.

_Tony (4:05): No. For getting angry. You know I feel responsible for you._

_Tony (4:06): Because I gave you this suit that can take a big hit and so of course you’re going to get reckless with it, but you were already reckless before that, and I just wanted to make it easier on me._

_Parker (4:08): Are you apologizing for giving me the suit or for protecting me, because this is a little confusing._

_Tony (4:10): Um, neither. I’m apologizing for being loud. Remember?_

_Peter (4:14): Oh, right._

Tony could hear the smirk on the kid’s face.

 _Tony (4:17): I just need you to be careful. And then I’ll be able to sleep. Then maybe my blood pressure will lower just a little bit_ _and I'll live to be 60_.

_Parker (4:18): Okay, Mr. Stark._

_Tony (4:21): See you Friday._

Tony’s fingers felt hot, and he shoved his phone in his pocket to get away from the erratic thumping of his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t open up so much, put too much on display. Maybe he should also learn to be better at explaining, for next time.

-

Friday rolled around and things were… worse, if he was being honest. Tony was doing everything he could to keep Peter at a distance, but his small desk was giving him troubles. His heart couldn’t handle this many jumps within such a short time, not anymore, and he just wanted some fucking peace.

Was it so much to ask to just… work? Next to each other but not like, right next to each other? He just wanted to spend his very sparse free time working on his armor updates and Peter was really only there as an incentive to keep him in school, not to… imply anything. Tony had to admit he enjoyed having the kid around, but this deal, at its bare bones, was for academic purposes only. It was never supposed to be like this. Peter was supposed to be working too, but he was just barely pretending to at this point.

Peter was taking every advantage he saw, every chance to jump right into his space, and it was starting to overload his senses. Maybe this wasn’t anything new, but now that he was aware and searching for it he couldn’t ignore it like before.

He was doing his best, though, staying well focused on his suit, until the wave broke.

Tony’s skin was burning white where Peter had once again wrapped his fingers around his bicep in an attempt to get his attention, and Tony finally splintered apart, “ _Peter._ ”

He sounded like he was crumbling, pleading to be held together, “You can’t do this to me. You have to stop.”

Peter flinched at his sudden detonation, just barely, and let go just as quick. His eyes drained of color, leaning back and looking up defeated, “But… I saw it; I saw you finally looking at me the way I look at you. I thought…”

Tony was struck by lightning, jumping up and stepping back, building up barriers where they weren’t before. He was losing ground, and starting to forget whether he was supposed to be ignorant or dissenting, “I didn’t, I _wouldn’t_ -”

Peter’s face went stricken as he stepped forward, moving with intent and a fire trailing behind. He was finally losing patience with him, and Tony really couldn’t blame him. Peter’s shoulders were tense as he snarled, “You _wouldn’t_. Jesus, Tony, at least act like you know how to lie. What are you even afraid of? I’m _with you here_ -“

So _that_ was what Peter wanted. He wanted Tony to be honest. _Well, okay, but it was going to fucking hurt._

Tony’s face darkened and he moved right in, forcing Peter to curl into himself if he was unwilling to back out, “What am I afraid of?”

That was fucking _hilarious_. Tony heard himself laughing like he was falling to his knees, begging for absolution. Peter looked mortified, and maybe he was finally getting it.

“Well, where should I start? I’m afraid of losing one of the few people I have left that I actually care about. I’m afraid of scarring you, changing you, abusing you and your trust. I’m petrified that I’d be making the wrong choice, despite it _clearly_ not even being an option. I’m scared that even recognizing that won’t be enough to make a difference. I’m a fucking wreck, Peter, a horrible person, and you don’t get it. _Reciprocating isn’t enough_.”

He felt empty and cold with his heart melted at his feet. It was much worse letting it out than acting oblivious, as was his original plan. Being open and vulnerable was overrated. His ignorance was plating his body again, protecting him from anything trying to break his resolve, and Peter was trying to do exactly that.

Peter was smiling at him like he’d hung the stars around them, framing them as the bright center, and it was mortifying. Tony knew he left himself exposed, giving Peter exactly what he wanted to hear. Peter wanted a confession, he wanted to be on equal ground, and he didn’t want to feel alone anymore.

Tony was wrong to give in, no matter how harshly he'd done so. He was supposed to be responsible, he couldn’t just snap in two when Peter put him under pressure. He was supposed to be _stronger_. He was supposed to be better.

Peter won, though, and he wanted to press it. Double or nothing.

Tony watched him move, keeping their eyes locked, and Tony let all thought leak out his ears as he boiled over. He reacted impulsively, shoving Peter away harder than he really needed to, just to take back some space. Peter stumbled, looking up through his lashes as his eyes misted over.

Once again, Tony had made the wrong call. He shook his head and raked his fingers back through his hair in frustration. He was incapable of _not_ fucking things up, “Shit, I’m sorry, I-”

He cut himself off. His head was spinning and he felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn't find a way out. There was no right turn here.

Peter straightened up and nodded, but his eyes were far off and void of light. He didn't look like the Peter Tony was used to, the Peter that lit up his life, and he only had himself to blame.

Tony supposed it didn’t matter what he did now that he'd hurt Peter anyway, despite trying everything he could to avoid exactly that. Instead of doing something someone with a working heart might, he walked out of the lab without a glance back, sick of groveling for understanding.

Cutting ties early was healthy.

He sat heavily on his bed, head between his knees, and Friday let him know that Spider-man had left the premises a few minutes later.

-

The next night, Tony was staring out his bedroom window into cold black space. He was actively not thinking about anything but empty stars, letting his fingers idly tap on his arc reactor and shoving his freezing toes under the sheet. The reactor was sinking heavier than normal, likely overworking itself with how hard his heart was trying to give out.

He’d just gotten out of the shower and his hair was still stuck to his forehead, towel haphazardly tossed towards the dresser. His skull was sore where it was settled against his bed frame, but it was the only hot spot of feeling on his body at the moment so he thought he’d let it ride.

It’d been about 26 hours since he’d poured everything in him out onto the floor. Now, he was unwilling to let anything rise to fill the space.

His phone buzzed on his nightstand, and he was almost scared to check it. He plucked it up anyway, barely catching his grey, sunken eyes in the reflection before the screen lit up. He didn’t need eye bags to tell him he was exhausted. He was used to not sleeping, but this was a new evolution of tired, a full body fatigue he couldn't shake off.

He swiped away a couple inconsequential emails before reaching the new text with a sinking stomach.

_Parker (9:43): I’m sorry I pushed it. I had it all wrong. I was wrong._

Tony felt anger gush through his chest and flood into his throat. His fingers dug into the screen and he was lucky he'd made it out of shatterproof glass.

He was sick of the pain he got in his chest whenever Peter thought this was his fault. It wasn’t fair that he had no way to solve this problem, no way to make it vanish. Tony had so much shit happening every minute of every day, he couldn't get out, he couldn't breathe. He was busy trying to fix Rhodey’s legs, attempting to amend the Accords, and utterly failing to pardon every ex-Avenger that took him by the shoulder, turned him around, and shoved a blade through his back, right behind his lungs-

“Boss, your heart rate is erratic.”

Tony became acutely aware of his heavy, guttural breathing and where his fist knotted in his tank top next to the reactor. If he wasn’t a genius, he’d think that thing was failing at its job.

Instead, once again, this was all on Tony, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to help himself.

He couldn’t talk to the kid, because he couldn’t even come to terms with this shit on his own and he was clearly so incredibly terrible at conversation. He didn’t even want to consider letting himself open up again, especially for someone that was off limits and would likely put him in an early grave. It was an idiotic idea to even let himself consider it. He had no good answers, he was stuck in the middle of two wrong turns, both leading off a ledge.

His one reprieve would be peace and quiet and acting like it wasn't happening. His ‘honesty’ strategy wasn’t working in the slightest, as he always came off wrong and made things worse, so he iced Peter out.

Dead silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Silence lasted about two weeks, until he woke up in a cold sweat with the image of Scorpion suffocating Peter in a blue, murky alley with no backup burnt onto his eyelids.

He knew this issue wouldn’t dissipate so easily, but he had to put some space there to keep himself sane. He’d felt it, let himself feel the utter heartache that crashed in behind the nightmare for the first time. Once he let it through, he couldn’t plug the leak.

Before then, he wasn’t letting anything get to him, especially not the stupid fucking 'feelings' he had for that way-too-young kid he’d been hanging around lately. It pained him to even think about it, made his stomach tightly knot up. He wasn’t going to act like anything was possible between them, because that would be scratching off the scab just to let it bleed again. There was no point to hope, and he would be wrong to consider it.

He pushed that all away, as quickly as it settled, in favor of pulling out his phone to make sure Peter was alright. He could just ask Friday instead of Peter directly, but he thought the silent treatment had done its job by now. The point was to communicate to Peter that they weren’t feasible, no matter how much he begged and how badly Tony wanted to give in.  The point was to push him back to arm’s length.

He shook his head to clear it out, tired of his circling thoughts, then turned to check the clock. 8:43.

He’d call later. If Peter was still in on the deal, then he should be in school, and Tony wasn’t going to mess with that. He’d barely gotten the kid to listen the first time.

“Friday, set an alarm for three, so I can call…”

Friday didn’t wait for him, “Sir, you’ll be in a meeting.”

He smiled, “C’mon, Fri.”

He could hear the judgement in her voice, “Alarm set for three, boss.”

“Thank you, dear.”

 

Tony actually wasn’t aware of the time, despite his fingers thrumming on his knee like he was waiting for something; he was just an antsy guy. He felt a little dread, though, when his internal clock started ticking in time with his heart. Maybe it was a coincidence. What did he have to be nervous about?

He started picking at the fabric of his Armani slacks, and it didn’t burn a hole in his wallet like it did for the guy watching him. He looked up and smirked before going back at it with a little more vigor. Tony stilled easily when his phone buzzed continuously under his palm. Oh, right, it wasn’t a coincidence. It took him no time to stand and excuse himself, drawing a few pairs of annoyed eyes to his back.

Pressed against the wall outside the meeting hall, the line rang four times before Peter picked up.

_“Mr. Stark?”_

His fingers were tapping again, this time on the wall by his thigh, and he idly wondered where all this anxiety was leaking in from because he knew he wouldn’t let his usual type of nightmares get to him like this, “Hey Spidey, how was school?”

 _“Um, fine… what’s up?”_ Peter sounded hollow, and maybe a bit disingenuous. Tony knew it was an odd line of questioning for anyone but a parent to ask and _Jesus Christ_ -

He muzzled his head immediately, “Oh, I was just checking in. Making sure you were alright.”

A stressful silence stretched before Peter dully responded, _“Making sure I was alright.”_

Tony felt the kid’s anger overflow over the line so he sped up to reach the point, hoping he could turn this whole thing around, “Yeah, see, I had this dream where you-“

Peter cut him off just as he got going _, “So you get to care when it helps_ you _sleep.”_

Tony’s blood froze, fingers constricting and digging in as his chest started to cave. He didn’t anticipate Peter pushing back. Peter was justified and entirely ready to speak his mind, and Tony hadn’t really prepared himself for _that_ type of talk. He knew he’d made twenty different wrong turns to get them here; he didn’t need to be told so.

But, wait. _Peter wasn’t sleeping? Because of him?_

He’d just wanted to ease his anxiety, check in on the kid, and this whole conversation was just serving to ramp it up, “C’mon Parker, I’ve always cared, that’s the problem, right?”

Peter huffed, annoyed and unwilling to cave _, “Oh, that’s the problem? Not dropping off the face of the Earth for two weeks because you were scared?”_

Tony stuttered, letting a little honesty filter in to bail him out, “I thought it’d get through, I thought it’d make you understand that we-“

Tony quickly quieted down as the meeting hall emptied out, a few attendees giving side-eyed glances to his slumped, heavy posture. Tony felt himself dipping, burying himself under his own mistakes. They looked right through him as if they _knew_.

Peter’s small, dejected voice drifted into his headspace when he didn’t pick up where he’d trailed off, _“Don’t worry Tony, it got through.”_

Tony closed his eyes and shook his head because this was exactly what he’d wanted, right? The kid would be angry for a few weeks, they’d get over it, and it would all be over by the time the world needed saving again. This was his ticket out, free pass.

Despite that, it tore him apart to think Peter would be stuck drowning with this false truth Tony'd forced on him. Tony wasn’t going to sink him like that, couldn’t even bear the thought of it. He may reject him, but he wasn’t going to make the kid believe he wasn’t worth that to Tony.

“Don’t… It’s not like that. This isn’t what I meant.”

_“Then what did you mean?”_

Tony’s jaw clenched as he weighed his options. Self-preservation was never his specialty and he wasn’t about to turn that around now.

“I meant that this isn’t a game. This shit happening with us? Its eating me up inside and I can’t handle it. My heart physically can’t take the stress. I don’t know what you think this is, but I don’t think you get how bad it could be. You’re blinded by idolization, _and that’s all this is_ , so I’m stopping it before it goes too far.”

Tony heard breathing in response, and nothing else. There was no argument, no disagreeing.

Tony was forced to keep talking, no matter how badly he needed to hear Peter tell him he was off base, “Come back to the lab. Next week it’ll just be work. No more of this.”

It was an offer of peace but also a firm statement. He was done with this shit. He wanted his smart as hell, plucky and bright protégé back.

Peter sighed over the line and just barely agreed. The call cut off and Tony was left with his thoughts, as Peter was unwilling to prove him wrong or change his mind.

Maybe he’d finally done something right. That didn’t seem possible, but he let himself hope anyway.

-

Stark Industry meetings and a charity gala kept his mind decently distracted throughout the next week. Peter didn’t try to contact him in the meantime, to comment either way on Tony’s accusations, and it just made him overthink it even more. While he was distracted during the day, he sat awake in the moonlight, wondering if he had been right.

He was convinced that Peter’s feelings were just the sun in his eyes. They didn’t go anywhere, they were nothing substantial; they didn’t take root past his bright, blinding hero-worship and misplaced admiration.

Tony let this whole thing break his barricades, for nothing. Tony let his heart get pulled to the surface, rummaging through mistrust and demolition, just to meet a lie when it reached the top. Tony made a fool of himself, despite pushing the hope down as far as it could go. He could only barely believe the part of him telling him it was a good thing; that it was worth it just to get through to Peter, to expose his false feelings.

The thumping pain left behind in his chest, constantly stinging, didn’t agree with him on that.

Despite being decently distracted throughout the week, he was well aware of the clock when Friday night hit and Peter wasn’t showing up.

Tony wasn’t anxious, just casually concerned, as Peter was rarely so late. Despite feeling the itching need to jump into his suit, he forced himself to stay sat on his stool and attempt to ignore the ticking time. He ignored his foot tapping in time with the clock.

It was getting to him as his right hand was starting to shake and he barely caught himself before the laser it held skipped past his gear and hit something vital.

He dropped it down on the counter and sighed as his head fell in his hand. He needed some goddamn medication already. What kind of mechanic couldn’t use their hands? A useless one.

He muttered into his palm, dejected and impatient, “Friday, where’s Parker?”

He sounded like a sulking child, and he knew his overly observant A.I. caught on, “Are you asking me to spy on him, sir?”

Tony rolled his eyes and barely held a snark behind his teeth, “You know I’m not.”

“Well then I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

Tony barely mumbled a ‘me either’ before light footsteps from behind caught his attention.

The balcony was already open when Peter trudged in, body heavy with exhaustion, and Tony wondered if that was his fault somehow. He shook his head, exasperated at his own self-loathing.

 _Jesus, not everything can be your fault_.

When he looked up and caught Peter’s eyes in the silence, however, he thought, _you sure?_

As if Peter could hear his inner monologue and how annoying he was being, he spoke up, “May had a date. I was stuck at ‘family dinner’ for three hours.”

Tony lifted his brow and smiled, heart suddenly beating to a whole new rhythm, “You were busy third-wheeling all night?”

Parker seemed to deflate even further, sadly taking off his mask and slinging his bag on the couch, “Yeah, it was introduction night, the first significant partner in a while. She even made tuna casserole.”

Tony barked out a laugh at the utter agony in his voice, “Surprised you survived.”

Tony was beaming, and Parker was squinting in the face of his bright mood. Tony decided to ignore how quickly his attitude had done a 180 once Peter showed up, as it was incredibly unhelpful and unproductive for his mental state.

Tony looked over to Peter’s bloated bag and crossed his arms, “Need to stay over?”

Peter yawned and nodded, scrubbing at his neck to work out the tension, “Yeah, I uh, told May I’d be staying over at Ned’s. Can I just crash on the couch? I’m sorry it’s such late notice but I really didn’t want to be home with both of them... at night.”

Tony felt the smile pulling at his lips again and he couldn’t stop staring at the deflated, gloomy superhero asking for residence, no anger or residual pain in his plea. This feeling of sheer bliss at just seeing him there, safe and tired and normal but still there, was disorienting. He hadn’t expected it to be like this. He’d expected cold silence and increasing resentment, but not this.

Peter’s eyebrows went up in question as Tony continued to not answer or even look away, and Tony barely caught himself from saying something incredibly stupid, “’Course, kid.”

Peter bristled at the nickname but slung his bag over his shoulder again and started to walk past him, “I’m really tired so I’m just gonna change and pass out, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, just- you can use a room. Don’t have to stay down here.” Tony caught up with him and took his bag, despite the tired hand pushing against his side in protest. Tony shoved Peter’s shoulder back with a smirk, “I got it, Rip Van Winkle.”

Peter completely ignored that as he trudged into the elevator with him, slumping against Tony when the doors closed. He wondered if this helpless, drained act was on purpose, to thaw his resolve and rile him up, but then Peter’s body almost fell forward before Tony caught him by his upper arm and held tight.

Peter jolted back to consciousness with cluttered mutterings, gently pulling out of Tony’s grasp and putting space between them again. Tony safely tucked his stung hand into his pocket as Peter leaned against the wall and closed his eyes again, seemly unaware of his actions.

The elevator opened to the upper floor, and Tony roused Peter awake before walking him toward the rooms down the hallway. Peter slumped into the first one they hit, and Tony amusedly huffed at his debilitating drowsiness. He wasn’t used to Peter being so pliable and dependent, didn’t know why it made his chest tight, but he could really get used to the calm of it all.

Peter didn’t even change out of his suit before dropping his body down on the bed and Tony wasn’t about to do it for him. If the kid would just wear his new suit, he wouldn’t have to mess with this shit. He did decide to take the mask out of his slack grip, though, just so it couldn’t be lost or ruined through the night.

He tossed the kid’s bag by the bed and forced himself to walk back down to the lab for just a little bit more work before he turned in as well.

His new suit needed to be ready as soon as possible, just in case. Besides that, he didn’t need to lay around with drifting thoughts and heavy blue feelings. He needed a distraction from the guest in his spare room and working tirelessly through midnight sounded like the perfect one.

-

Tony woke up the next morning to… soft white sunlight. There was no nightmare to kickstart his anxiety or a danger alert to rev up his heart. He just rolled over, curled up into his pillow, and slowly let the morning green leak into his vision.

He brought his fingers up to push his hair back, and idly wondered if this was a perk to letting the person you constantly feared for the safety of stay with you. The compound was secure, and there was nothing but the absence of dread to show that this was a good change.

He stretched over and felt the empty space next to his own, just barely letting himself imagine it sinking with the weight of someone else. With that thought, he was drifting, body floating in this new terrain that let him have everything he was willfully ignoring. Peter was there, lightly snoring into the dark grey pillowcase next to him as his hair fell in his eyes. Tony moved it away and skimmed his fingers across his cheek to see his eyelashes flutter in shallow consciousness. Peter was wading under the surface, and Tony let his eyes trail down the nape of his neck to his bare shoulder blades, lightly rising and falling with his lungs.

The sun was washing his bare back in orange-hot light, and Tony felt the urge to soak it in for himself. His fingers trailed down the knocks of Peter’s spine just to come to a stop at the dip of his lower back, something stopping him dead in his tracks.

Reality zeroed back in as his cold fingers skipped across the empty sheets. Something heavy settled behind his ribs as he came to terms with the tiny universe he’d created.

He recognized every roadblock that should keep them well and truly separated; he knew he was wrong to even consider the kid as anything but his protégé. He was supposed to be responsible, and it burned to know he was failing so monumentally at it.

Despite that, he almost felt worse denying them both. That was stupid of him, he knew, because that was supposed to be his specific obligation in this situation. But, again, his nightmares barely let him believe he even had a future, let alone the capacity to care about anything but being happy with the time he had left.

He shook his head, annoyed by how selfish he sounded. Peter wasn’t an indulgence, and his heart tugged at the thought of him falling so far to even think of that excuse. He knew he was trying to rationalize his illogical pull to Peter, trying to justify the acceptance of his interest. Maybe he’d just realized that fighting it wasn’t worth pushing Peter away, no matter what that lead to. There was no realistic explanation to this, he just wanted it, and Peter wanted it, and it felt right. It _wasn't_ right, but he was sick of that, sick of getting stuck on it.

He wanted Peter next to him, close and safe, and he was tired of overlooking it. Peter still had to ask him for it though, force his hand, because Tony needed to know if he was still in it. After their last talk, his confidence in Peter’s conviction had started to falter, but he was willing to be proven wrong.

Tony let his acceptance settle, finally making his choice, and he felt a dam break. Every little knot in his chest untied with the burden lifted from his back, and he felt weightless.

Tony rolled out of his bed and pulled on his sweatpants in one quick motion. His black tank top wasn’t too wrinkled from sleep so he decided he was world-ready and made his way down the hall.

His bare feet slapped against the linoleum as he passed Peter’s room, unbothered by the noise he was making. He stopped and pulled back, rapping his knuckles against the door, “Shower up, Pete. Breakfast time.”

Pancakes and eggs were about the best he could manage on his own, and he was just glad he had anything in the fridge to work with. He couldn’t say he cooked for himself, or anyone, often, but he figured the tired teenager wouldn’t be mad at sugar this early. And that was the first time he referred to Peter as a teenager and it didn’t give him a stomach ache. He saw him as a young, mature adult, despite all those nicknames, so he wouldn’t let it make him panic, not after all his progress.

The pancakes were… dark, and a little lumpy. He winced as he scrapped the last batch off the griddle and onto the stack as Peter yawned his way into the kitchen.

Peter stopped in his tracks, and Tony was forced to turn around as the sound of footsteps stalled, and he couldn’t lie and say his heart didn’t pick up pace when he did so. Peter was red-cheeked and raw from the shower, softer than Tony’d ever seen him. His plaid pajama pants were slung low, barely held up by his boxers, and his grey Iron Man shirt was just this side of too tight.

Peter was looking at him too, up and down like he was art, and it made his skin light up. A weak blush spread across Tony’s shoulders and he had to turn back to the food before he jumped over the table just to seize that glaze in Peter’s eyes.

They had to talk first, and maybe it was stupid to think that a worn-in tank top would keep the kid’s thoughts on track. He couldn’t say it didn’t make him feel good, though. It’d been a minute since someone looked at him like that.

Tony brought the plates full of eggs and pancakes to the table as the moment passed, setting Peter next to him, “Want orange juice?”

Peter lumbered down into his chair and smiled up at him, “Sure, thanks.”

Tony nodded, ignoring Peter’s dripping hair soaking his neck, and went to rummage through the fridge.

He came back to the table with a glass of milk and disappointment, “Sorry, I didn’t check to see if we actually had any juice before asking. I don’t know who stocked my fridge, but it clearly wasn’t me.”

Peter laughed and took the drink, “Definitely Rhodey. He seems like an exclusive milk-drinker.”

Tony smirked and finished setting out the rest of their breakfast needs: syrup, utensils, and some salt and pepper. Peter was picking at his pancakes while he waited, as if his appetite couldn’t be controlled, and then Tony remembered the tuna casserole of the night before and conceded that it just might be.

Peter reached over and scooped up the syrup as soon as it hit the table, and Tony made do with his eggs while he waited. Tony watched in intrigue as Peter saturated his stack, which Tony made double the size of his own; heightened metabolism and all that.

Peter handed the syrup to him, and he applied a liberal amount to his own pancakes, caught on just watching it flow out. While he was entranced by it, Peter scarfed down a forkful and spoke through it, “So, I thought about what you said.”

Tony seized up at that, ready but not quite ready at the same time. He wasn’t scared of rejection, but rather he was still terrified of the next step. Acceptance was a rainy day, but progression was a nasty hurricane. Peter was watching him expectantly, ready to jump into the storm, so Tony set the bottle down and gave the kid his full attention.

Tony wasn’t going to speak up or ask what he meant, too shaken to move this forward on his own, so Peter took a couple more bites before pushing his plate away and sitting up straighter. Tony was a little terrified by the determined look on his face.

“You were right, “ Tony’s heart dropped into his stomach, “sort of.”

Tony kept still, not including closing the syrup lid because the cakes were well past sufficiently soaked at this point, as he waited for the fallout.

“You were right that it may have been a little bit of hero-worship before. But now it’s something else, something bigger. More than I’ve ever felt-”

Tony was panicking, hands shaking and heart dully thumping, because this was moving way too quick for him already, “Peter, I’m- I’m not good at more.”

Peter scrunched his eyes shut and shook his head like he didn’t believe him, and Tony was backpedaling all over again, completely sidestepping all his progress, “I’m not relationship material, you know? You didn’t think of that, right? What’s gonna happen, Pete? We gonna go on cute little dates like all the other kids? Are we gonna hold hands and make out at the back of the theater? This isn’t anything but a scandal waiting to break.”

He was right, but he hated the way he said it. He wasn’t supposed to be pushing Peter away anymore, but then 6 years of wall-building and heart-guarding may have fucked him up a bit. He didn’t want Peter to have the wrong idea about the viability of _them_ , but he also wanted there to be a them, so he needed to get over his fear and say what he meant already.

Peter, though, had been turning red in the cheeks ever since Tony started talking, and Tony watched as the flood gates opened, “I don’t care about that shit, Tony!”

Tony went wide-eyed in the face of Peter’s pent up anger, and the kid just kept rolling, “I care about _you_ , and I care about making you feel like you’re worth something because you’re so, so incredibly bad at it. I want you, and I want you to be happy, and I want it to be because of me. Bare minimum here, Tony. It’s so damn simple to me. You just can’t help but complicate it.”

Tony’s hard armor softened as Peter’s conviction sunk in. He still didn’t get it, though, and Tony had to give one more solid shove of resistance, “You know why I have to, right? You _know_ it’s not simple. You’re seventeen, Pete, what do you expect to come of this?”

Peter ignored his questions, “Do you actually care about that, or are you just saying you care to make yourself feel better? Because I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”

Tony already knew he didn’t care, he came to terms with it earlier that morning, but that wasn’t the point. The point was the public eye constantly keeping up with the ‘Avengers’, if that’s who they even were anymore, and how royally fucked this was. Before he had a chance to say so, though, Peter stood and sat on the edge of the table in front of him. Tony had to tilt back to make eye contact and his throat closed up as Peter leaned in.

Peter was so close, breath grazing Tony’s cheeks as he said, “Stop me if you want.”

And Tony listened, the last shred of his preservation instinct kicking in as his hands flew up to Peter’s forearms where they were locked on the edge of the table to hold him in place. Peter stopped, and they were just floating. Tony wasn’t pushing him away or bringing him in, because he knew what he wanted but that didn’t mean he deserved it.

Peter was looking at him with those eyes again, though, and his resolve fractured. Peter had made up his mind, and Tony was just trailing behind.

Tony lifted his hand wrapped his fingers around Peter’s jaw, bringing him in and Peter fucking surged with it. The kid took the opportunity and pushed himself onto Tony’s lap, making space for himself where he saw fit. Peter’s thighs were hot and solid where they were snug against his hips, and he managed to get a hand at the back of Tony’s neck before their lips even met.

Peter brought him in with fingers in his hair just as Tony tugged his jaw to his chin, and they melted. It wasn’t rough or rushed, as Peter had been so damn graceful so far, but it felt like a finality. Peter had planned this, had waited for the moment to even get the chance, and he was soaring with it.

Just as quick as Peter started to part his lips, Tony broke it off with a ragged breath and rested his forehead against Peter’s own. Peter was barely breathing hard at all as Tony felt like he was stuck in an air pocket. It all went so quick he barely had time to think.

But now he was aware of every hot spot of fire Peter had lit across his body, and his hands went there immediately, grazing from the kid’s hips and up his flank to reach his chest.

He felt it rising with every breath the kid took and Peter willed him to open his eyes, “Stop thinking so much.”

Tony shook his head, because this was fucking insane, right? But Peter squeezed at his neck and his body sunk into it. He pushed his cheek against Peter’s, kissing his jaw before surging back up to his lips and Peter responded double-time. His body pushed forward and up, bringing Tony snug against him, and then Tony had to snap his hands to his hips again because there was a little _too much_ movement in that particular spot.

Tony huffed a breath against Peter’s lips, “Taking this slow, Petey.”

Peter pulled a smile and nodded against him, letting go of his neck in favor of running his fingers through his hair, ear to nape, “I like your hair like this, you know.”

Tony ignored the ache in his chest at the unfamiliar compliment, “Funny, I was just thinking I should go bald.”

Peter leaned back on his lap to get a good look at him, “I mean, you’re beautiful, but I don’t think you’d be able to pull it off.”

Tony’s cheeks warmed up; he wasn’t used to praise in the slightest, unless it was underhanded, and this was a lot at once. Peter laughed at his uncomfortable state and leaned in again with soft lips and gentle fingers.

Tony was drowning from it, stuck freefalling under dark blue water with murky senses. He was looking up towards the sun for guidance when a hand broke down through the surface. He reached out, barely grazing the fingertips, and he was found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning, I'm likely going to edit this a shit ton within the next few days, but... that's a wrap. thanks for sticking around through sporadic updates and I hope you liked it! I might still be writing a second part to this series, to get in all the dating and politics and love and shit, but who knows. anyway, feedback is appreciated!


End file.
